Snippets: Why T&I Never Come up During Career Days
by Kaara
Summary: In which Ibiki tortured people, got exasperated at his subordinates -but didn't kill them, unfortunately- and drank sweet,  black coffee. Iruka mostly smiled. IbikiIruka.


**Title:** Snippets: Why Torture & Investigation Never Come Up During Career Days.  
><strong>Prompt:<strong> For a Naruto Santa something something I can't remember it's been ages.  
><strong>Rating:<strong> PG15.  
><strong>Pairing(s):<strong> (Horribly domestic-type) IbikiIruka.  
><strong>Warning(s):<strong> None, really. Not that I can think of.  
><strong>Summary:<strong> In which Ibiki tortured people, got exasperated at his subordinates and drank (sweet) black coffee. Iruka mostly smiled.

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**Snippets: Why Torture & Investigation Never Come Up During Career Days.**

**-** 1. 1 _Never Underestimate The Sweet Chuunin Who Reigns Over Pre-Genin Hellions._

**x**

**1.**

"Name, rank, affiliation."

Ibiki smiled pleasantly at the hunched form in the middle of the room, heavy boots stomping over cold concrete floor as he advanced towards his captive. He stopped several steps away and lowered himself until he was staring straight at the pale face of a young woman. Pretty in an inconspicuous sort of way, full red lips and wide brown eyes and all the necessary trimmings that made a good spy. Ibiki thought it was amusing and a form of poetic justice, how her undoing was caused by her decision to befriend someone with more lies to tell than she did. Better at it than she could ever achieve.

Lucky Konoha. Lucky _him_.

He leaned forward and the smile widened, old scars pulling and distorting and he looked anything but friendly. "That's all we need from you for now. And then. Well." He stopped, allowing heavy silence to echo promises of false freedom.

Spies were treated like any other enemies of Konoha once they had outlived their usefulness – instant obliteration, quick and clean. Possibly painless too, if he was in a good mood.

She knew this only too well and her eyes told Ibiki so.

That near instant steeling of resolve, out of dignity and desperation, and there was nothing he enjoyed more than to watch that same resolve crumbling away at the end of the day.

"_Crimson __moon __of __our __night __sky_." Her words came out with a bit of a slur, probably caused by the jaw-lock that had been performed on her earlier. To prevent someone from biting their tongue off, as some spies had been known to resort to in dire circumstances. "_Sin __in __your __hands. __Dripping, __honey __and __poison_."

Ibiki raised an eyebrow, amused. "Reciting the suicide haiku is not a solution you can afford, if you haven't realised that yet. It's easier to cooperate and get this over with, yes?"

Her lips pressed into one thin line.

"If you insist."

The smile returned despite her refusal to fulfil his request and Ibiki stood up, scratched his scars-lined cheek. He contemplated, silent and lazy, upon which approach to use on this one – he liked ending a session as quickly as he could, even though drawing it out _would_ be rather entertaining. It had been quite some time since his last 'guest' after all. But then again, he might just be late for a prior arrangement for lunch.

Choices, choices.

Ibiki finally moved around her, stopping when he was behind the young woman. Her hands were bound to the chair, separately of course, to avoid contact and the formation of hand seals. All her fingers were spread apart, stretched far enough to hurt and just shy of being fucking painful. That new guy (_What __was __his __name __again? __Goro?_) sure knew some fancy knots. He placed his hands on her shoulder, feeling her muscles jump and tense almost immediately and Ibiki couldn't help the slow curl of his lips. He had shed his gloves earlier, preferring to work skin-to-skin whenever the situations allow him to. Made it easier and more satisfactory to sense fear and apprehension and terror when he could touch them, really.

"My mother used to say that it's rude to sneak into someone's home."

He snapped a finger at the end of that sentence.

Her scream wasn't as shrill as he had hoped.

Oh, well. He still had nine more to look forward to.

**2.**

"Name. Rank. Affiliation."

She gasped for breath, struggled against the pain, the cauterised wounds Ibiki had both caused and fixed. Her endurance was rather admirable. "Fuck. You."

Electricity crackled to life on the palm of his hand. It wouldn't hurt to attempt another shock or two before he moved on to other methods.

"I do appreciate the offer, but I'm afraid we're running out of time here. Shall we try again?"

**3.**

Ibiki walked out of the room with a pleased grin on his face, left a crimson handprint on the knob when he closed the door. He sauntered to a sink close by and turned on the tap, conscious of the disapproving glare directed at him from the other end of the floor. He began soaping his hands.

"I would really appreciate it if you can stop leaving blood all over the place," the annoyed chastise came a few seconds into silence and Ibiki dried his hands, turned around to scowl at a bespectacled woman by a desk. She sniffed in disdain. "I just cleaned that this morning."

"We're Torture, Tsuchi. Blood's part of the business," he groused, more out of habit than anything, and manoeuvred his way to her desk. She was all snippy complaints and severe warnings and he'd (unfortunately) gotten used to that. Her skills in negotiations and knives were worth the headache. Most of the times, anyway. "Our girl's from Oto, Mizu's renegade." He paused as Tsuchi pulled out a sheet of blank paper and started taking down notes in rapid, sure strokes. "No specific mission, just an order to keep an eye on things. Got through the Gate with a family of traders from the North, the Kuriyamas. Forward that to Surveillance and get their background checked."

"They're probably here for the Summer Festival." Tsuchi clucked her tongue disapprovingly. "The traffic's absolutely _atrocious_ this time of the year."

"Can't do anything when they bring business to the village."

"Business _and_ trouble. Brawlers, some of those traders. Are there anything else I should add to the report?"

Ibiki shook his head. "That's all. And send for someone to clean up the mess inside there. I'm going to—"

"Hey, boss!"

Tsuchi sniffed again, nose wrinkled as if someone had just shoved cow dung towards her general direction. Ibiki turned his attention to the entrance of the department and nodded at the redheaded jounin heading towards them. "Jin. You're late."

The toothy grin he received in return was charmingly remorseless. "Tied up in Recon. Shitty bastards made me go through the testimonials twice. Not m'fault, see?"

"Nothing is ever your fault," Tsuchi snapped before Ibiki could say anything, her spectacles gleaming.

Jin opened his mouth to retort.

Ibiki cleared his throat loudly.

His subordinates could be such _children_.

"Tsuchi, I'll need the report first thing tomorrow. Update Oto's file and send it to the Hokage. She's been pestering me since last week. Jin." He levelled a glare at the redhead, whose grin remained very much the same. "There's a body inside there that needs to be removed. And scrub the bloodstains off properly this time."

"Aw, damn. I thought today's your turn. This ain't fair!"

Ibiki ignored the complaint and shrugged on his coat. "I'll be out after lunch. Make sure you get your chores done."

"Another rendezvous with your pretty _wife_?"

"And for that, you'll be cleaning innards for the rest of the week."

"Goddammit, boss!"

**4.**

The café was small, intimate and _pink_.

Ibiki grimaced as a timid waitress shakily placed a cup of coffee in front of him, before fleeing for dear life.

"I have no idea why I still allow you to drag me to this kind of places." He took a sip from the cup and the grimace turned into a frown. "Black coffee's supposed to be _black_. Not sweet."

"Stop complaining so much."

"Stop making me drink sweet coffee."

Umino Iruka looked up from the stack of test papers he had been grading and smiled at Ibiki. "You know you like it."

"You're disillusioned."

"Maybe so." Iruka shrugged and returned to his papers. Glaring red crosses soon appeared on those papers. "For good reasons too. Being disillusioned helps with my conscience issues."

Ibiki stopped frowning at the offending coffee long enough to stare at Iruka. "_You_ have conscience issues?"

Another shrug and that sweet, school-teacher smile made its appearance again. "I like to pretend I do."

They shared quiet laughter at the quip, comfortable and familiar and Ibiki eased back into his (very pink) chair. They were ensconced at the back of the place and apart from a couple of twittering teenage girls several tables away, the café was thankfully empty. Iruka deduced – all bright eyes and wide smile – earlier that Ibiki's vibes had scared everyone within twenty miles off.

Ibiki defended himself by stating that it was a part of his charm.

"How's work today? Got anything useful out of the bad guy?" Iruka finally pushed the papers to a side and reached for his green tea. There were smudges of ink on his fingers that Ibiki failed to not notice. Ibiki glanced at his own fingers and noticed blood underneath the fingernails.

Same difference.

He unlatched his eyes from his brief observation on the state of their respective fingers to answer Iruka's question. "Took some time and a few missing limbs…"

"Messy as always," the teacher mock-teased and Ibiki wished that they were in a more private place, somewhere dark and grimy and has a nice, solid brick wall to which he could push Iruka against. His fingers twitched. "Am I going to know who she is?"

Ibiki shook his head and grinned. "It's confidential, _sensei_."

The wide-eyed, hurt-and-offended-and-lighting's-going-to-strike-you-down-if-you-deny-me-my-wishes look made its grand appearance.

Ibiki groaned. He just knew it won't take long before Iruka pulled out that card. "Don't you think you're getting too old for that trick?"

"Not when it still works on you," Iruka retorted, biting back laughter. His foot tapped Ibiki's under the table. "Come on, tell me? I sent her to you, didn't I?"

"You're too curious for your own good."

"Curiosity is the reason I get this far in Intelligence. And my good looks too, of course."

A bark of laughter escaped Ibiki's throat, although he composed himself instantly. It wouldn't do to ruin his reputation as an imposing figure in the public's eyes. He leaned forward and crooked a finger to invite Iruka closer. "Girl's from Oto. Typical surveillance order but she's the third one we cracked these two months alone. I think something big is going on behind the scene if they're sending this many scouts into Konoha roughly at the same time."

"That's odd. They were never this obvious before." The jovial gleam in Iruka's eyes had disappeared, replaced by sharp intensity usually masked by cheerful smiles and righteous anger. Ibiki's fingers twitched again. "Reports from other departments – any discrepancies among them?"

Ibiki shook his head and sighed. "There are rumours of war being waged up North, but Recon has nothing concrete on that. Jiraiya told me that his network hasn't been picking up anything unusual either. Whatever this thing is, it's a well-kept secret."

"Nothing stays secret for long," Iruka stubbornly persisted, before they lapsed into a thoughtful silence. He withdrew after a few moments and picked up his cup. The school teacher was back. "Will you be coming for dinner tonight?"

Bipolar disorder shouldn't be so appealing. Really. "Expecting someone else, Iruka-sensei?"

"Perhaps I am."

"Perhaps I might make a surprise visit then. For purely professional reasons, of course."

Iruka laughed, threw back his head and simply _roared_ in abandon, something Ibiki couldn't (and wouldn't, shouldn't) do. He stood up, collected his papers and (much to Ibiki's surprise) pecked the cheek criss-crossed with scars. The brown eyes that looked down at him were as warm as the blood rushing to his head. Affection wasn't part of their usual exchange. "My lunch break's over. Don't be late or you won't be getting any sake tonight. Have a nice day, Morino-san."

Ibiki resolutely finished his (sweet) coffee, paid their tab and sauntered out of the café, into Konoha's inviting sunlight and bright chatters and ignorant normalcy. He nodded at a group of fellow ninjas heading towards the opposite direction and looked up at the blue, cloudless sky overhead. Someone jostled him and a childish voice piped up a '_sorry_' from somewhere around his ankle. Ibiki sighed.

He had rounds to make, people to intimidate and threaten.

Dinner couldn't have come quickly enough.

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**END**

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**Author****'****s****Note:** It's odd and random and idek okay. This was from ages ago. Oh man. I don't even remember who it was for haha. Review, please and thank you!


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